


All Great and Precious Things are Lonely

by wayward_winter_soldier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Sam Winchester, Crying Sam Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Sam Winchester hates himself, Sam Winchester is Loved, Sam Winchester is Too Good for This World, Sam Winchester is a Saint, Sick Sam Winchester, Suicidal Sam Winchester, Whump, Worried Dean Winchester, sam winchester is battling mental illness, sam winchester is getting better, sam winchester is working on himself, where do we go now that they're gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_winter_soldier/pseuds/wayward_winter_soldier
Summary: Sam Winchester used to smile like someone would sing a well-loved song, but nowadays Sam isn't quite sure how that old songs goes again...





	All Great and Precious Things are Lonely

Sometimes Sam Winchester finds himself outside of the bunker at night. This would annoy the living hell out of Dean if he knew about it. But he doesn't, because there are some things the Winchester brothers don't tell each other.

When it's a clear night over the rural landscape of Lebanon, Sam can see the stars. Jess is up in the stars, at least that's what Castiel told him once after the nightmare that still showed up even after fourteen years. Dean hadn't been there and Sam felt guilty making Cas pick up all his useless and broken pieces, by he was told not to worry about it. That never stopped a Winchester though.

Tonight was a clear night. Sam remembered his constellations from that astronomy class he took a millennium ago. Cassiopeia, the Queen, was the clearest she had been since Sam had started this nightly routine to keep the monsters at bay. That was Jess. The queen, his queen. He was sure of it.

The young man closed his eyes and laid his head back against the rough brown grass that needed watering desperately. The only sounds that filled Sam's ears were of nature. Owls hooting softly in the distance, the light evening breeze brushing against the tree leaves in a sort of metholic song that only they knew the lyrics to. It was what Sam liked. He had never liked the bustle of the city. It had always seemed so dirty and impersonal. Nature never treated you like that. She always treated you as an old friend who had stopped by for a cup of tea and a well-rounded talk. 

He felt as if he could spend the night out here under the stars, but surely Dean would worry and fuss when the morning sun came up from under the covers of the rolling hills. So, Sam Winchester stood, brushing off his black track pants with is rough and calloused hands, and headed back inside. Though, Sam wasn't very tired, and the thought of even drifting off to sleep and dealing with nightmare terrified the youngest Winchester to his core, so he padded softly into the kitchen after leaving his worn hunting boots by the door. His sock had a hole in the toe. Add another thing to fix to the list, Sam supposed.

The kitchen was dark and silent, but not in an eery of creepy way. It was a peaceful way. It gave off that certain emotion only felt when it was around two AM and you were the only one in the house not asleep. The only sounds are the ones you make, and you have to be careful about letting them escape into the early morning.

Sam found a mug, chipped a bit from overuse, and a tea bag. Tea was for night as coffee was for day in Sam's world. Coffee was loud and abrasive and challenged you to wake up and kick ass. Tea was there as a soft companion when you had better things to do than sleep at night. 

The water from the sink, burning Sam's hand slightly when he tested it's temperature, soon filled the old mug to almost the top, only saving room for milk and honey. Artificial sugar wasn't Sam's style.

Sam pondered what to do with himself as he collected the carton of milk from the fridge and the bear-shaped honey bottle from the pantry. Reading would be nice. Sam hardly read for fun these days. It was always something for a case or whatever their Big Bad was at the time, never for pleasure. Sam thought of all those unread books that lined the library's shelf like soldiers ready for battle. They were mostly non-fiction, though. As Sam stirred his tea, he decided that when the sun rose he would drive out to the local library to pick up some books that weren't about monsters and ghouls. Maybe a rom-com for a change of pace.

Sam left the soiled spoon in the sink to clean later, put the milk and honey back in their rightful homes, and walked to his bedroom with the hot mug in his hand, balancing it ever so slightly as to not spill anything. Sam wasn't in the mood to clean.

Once when Sam was seven, Dean had bought a box of pasta and a jar of creamy tomato sauce because the motel they were stuck in had a read stove. Sam had been sent to beg with the owner for a few cooking utensils, and not a single person could ever say no to his puppy dog eyes. It was one of Sam's fondest memories. Dean had let him help cook, because he had said women like a man who know his way around a kitchen. Sam was excited to do something that his brother was doing. It had been the most fun he had that week as he stirred the floury noodles in a borrowed pot as Dean looked at him from the corner of his eye, a smile never leaving his face, even when Sam accidently dropped a noodle on the floor.

It had also been the best meal he had had that week, though Dean had told him to stop overreacting since they had just boiled a few things. But Sam was in heaven. As he messily ate his spaghetti, he couldn't stop giving his older brother a smile through gapped teeth that had just started to fall out. Unbeknownst to Sam that night, Dean felt the same way.

When Sam walked into his bedroom for the second time that night, he closed the door ever so quietly behind him since Dean's room was just next door. His brother would wake up at noises in the night, thinking they were intruders. 

The mug sat on the desk that Sam had found himself sitting at quite frequently recently. He had started to write in a composition notebook. What he wrote about depended on the mood, but tonight it was about Jess.

 _I saw her in the stars tonight. I knew it was her because it was the queen. Once, on Halloween, Jess went as the Queen of Hearts and I went as the King. I hated Halloween, still do, but it was all worth it to see the smile on her face when we won Best Couple Costume. We had later gone on a Froyo date with the gift certificate we had won. She had cheesecake flavor with sprinkles. I had vanilla with blueberries and strawberries. We ate outside because it was hot for November. I held her hand underneath the patio table. It wasn't like I was ashamed to hold her hand for the whole world to see, though, and she knew it. It was like a secret that only we knew about. That's how she liked things to be sometimes. Not a dirty little secret, just a sort of_ Romeo and Juliet _style secret minus the suicide pact. She looked beautiful that night. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a loose bun with escapee strands of hair cascading down her face. Her blue eyes shined in the outdoor lighting and I swear to God I wanted to marry her right there. I still have the ring I was going to give her, after I aced my interview and made it into law school. The day never came to give it to her, obviously. But I still have it. I won't ever put it on another person's hand, that's for sure. It was Jess'. It will stay hers._

Sam closed notebook and tucked it into the desk drawer as to not cause wandering eyes. His tea mug, not empty save for the sticky residue of honey, laid unwanted off to the side, where it would stay until morning. Sam clicked off the desk lamp and shuffled over to the bed, knowing that he couldn't ignore the inevitable forever. 


End file.
